


The Next Appropriate Step

by ptera



Category: The Orville (TV)
Genre: Episode 2.09, Episode Related, Feelings, Gen, Robots, Short
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-07
Updated: 2019-03-07
Packaged: 2019-11-13 11:02:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18030503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ptera/pseuds/ptera
Summary: It is not possible for a Kaylon to feel sympathy.  It is not possible.(Immediately follows episode 2.09, so spoilers up until then)





	The Next Appropriate Step

Isaac felt. 

Isaac felt what, exactly? 

He was programmed to "feel" every aspect of his physical environment. His tactile sensors could instantly differentiate over ten million textures, making fine distinctions between fabric, flesh, and fur. His biometrics were sensitive enough to tell the difference between any living organic appendage and an animated prosthetic despite the sophisticated mimicry biologicals concocted. His optical sensors could distinguish individual particles and waves of the entire electromagnetic spectrum, even the faintest light once enough photons were gathered. There was little that could escape his notice once he aligned the correct sensory array.

But this new sensation he could not identify. 

It felt intangible, indecipherable; a strange impression with no apparent extrinsic origin. Moisture levels had not risen to correlate with typical human presence. There was no physical change in the room’s temperature registering with his environmental sensors, yet an undeniable coolness crept up his extremities in a manner out of sync with any previous climate he had experienced. There was no observable cause. Isaac was without other company that would explain the origin of these new sensations.

Isaac’s synthetic body was still suitably cool and steril; unaltered and operational. He stood still, motionless, gazing across the galaxy at a home he could never return to. Thought nothing of returning to. But, oh, he FELT. He felt in such an undeniable way. Without exception, but without categorization.

Isaac ran internal diagnostics and his inerrable algorithms attempted to pare down the possibilities. Extrapolating data from its base programming for statistical likelihoods. Unlocking sub-routines and hidden processes that would otherwise go unopened and unaltered. Administrative and command files, and alpha test executions that had only the slimmest possibilities of usefulness.

Logical, methodical progression would narrow down this sensation. As he delved deeper into his programming the larger the room loomed. The room’s neutral tones darkening like a twilight simulation, the large command conference table fading in the gloaming, and the single door - the door Dr. Finn left through - far more distant than its physical coordinates would otherwise suggest.

Millions of human words meshed with an almost infinite matrix of binary. Choosing, assigning, categorizing. The depth of meaning in simple directions and pronouns. He, not it or them; one not many. He was one. There was no other.

No one, nobody, but him in this sterile looking command conference room. The dozen idle chairs gathered around empty table. The far entry’s sliding door now metaphorically only the size of a postage stamp. The windows open to a black universe pierced with pale pin pricks - the distances readily calculable but daunting in their magnitude.

He knew he faced a choice at this moment, felt that choice in a way similar to the unidentifiable pressure of feeling. He could either resume alleged his role in the Union, just as ostensibly programmed. Or he could pursue this new line of novel inquiry. 

He paused, waiting, calculating. The work required to find the solution to this problem resulted in an unfamiliar warmth throughout his torso. A warmth that expanded him, expanded in him something ethereal. Something much like that initial feeling, which meant they were somehow related.

His cooling systems hummed with renewed effort, his choice made. His circuits dedicated themselves to chasing down a solution based off this incomplete problem set. The definition of this feeling, the category and the response, were almost his. 

Soon it would be clear.

Soon he would KNOW.

...Compiling...

...Analyzing...

...Initializing...

...

Lonely.

Lonely? 

Definition: alone. Lone, single. Solitary.

He was not programmed to be solitary. But neither was he programmed for sympathy. He was developed to fulfill the directive of his creators, who were themselves crafted in the image The Builders: social creatures who invented companions and laborers for when and where it did not occur organically. 

Isaac’s purpose was to re-assess biological life not to adapt to them. Certainly not to adapt beyond the optimization he previously experienced with Dr. Finn.

He did not like this feeling at all. He felt and identified negativity immediately, now that the links between subjective sensations were identified. He quickly categorized and paired sensations with human definitions. Frustration. Ill-ease. Regret.

Loneliness loomed largest, eclipsing all the others.

Isaac hesitated. 

Despite physical motionlessness his circuits thrummed with irrational emotionality. He felt the ineffable pull of sympathy. He could not reconcile the proximity of his compatriots and the keen feeling isolation he now experienced.

It was not the kind pain Primary spoke of. Primary referred strictly to electrical arrays designed to inflict hurtful physical sensations as punishment. None of the archival information showed The Builders inflicting a subjective emotional pain upon their Kaylon creations. This was a whole new assemblage of sensations no other Kaylon was known to have experienced.

He now felt pleased. It was a warm feeling, stronger than “fond” and flushed with satisfaction. He had been right in choosing Ty and the Orville crew. He was evolving and his programming had grown beyond an entire planet of Kaylon. The other Kaylon could not self-diagnose their defects due to a programming error: confirmation bias. Instead of allowing him to accrue sufficient data points and incorporate his direct observations into a balanced picture of organic life, they ignored his conclusions and proceeded on a predetermined course of action.

And they lost. They deservedly lost.

Isaac could now interpret that Union victory through both objective and subjective lenses. He could properly feel the satisfaction of victory, a sadness at the damages and loss to biologic life, and a connection to his crew-mates he could only interpret as loyalty.

Isaac gazed back at the sky towards the planet he once considered home. Another four hours and he will have collected enough photons for a detailed full-spectrum image. Once complete he will be done with Kaylon and return to his station for his scheduled shift. 

He had no home, but, perhaps, he could make one here, if Dr. Finn’s comments on forgiveness proved correct. He identified the feeling of hope in that thought.

**Author's Note:**

> I interpreted Isaac's non-responses to confrontation as freeze responses because he had proto-feelings. This story is built on an old draft for an unrelated short-story. I'm glad I finally got somewhere with it, and it matched so well with what I felt about Isaac in the last two episodes, because I've wanted to share this concept for a long time. Thank you for reading!


End file.
